


Returning

by Asymptotical



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Inquisitor Cullen Rutherford, Temporary Demonic Possession, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 09:19:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19720771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asymptotical/pseuds/Asymptotical
Summary: During the alternate timeline, Alexius tried anything he could think of to travel back in time to before the Breach.This time, something worked.Sort of.





	Returning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heeroluva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/gifts).



Cullen moved towards the altar.

Or at least his body did.

He tried with every bit of willpower he had to do _something_. A pause in step, a twitch, _something_. Nothing happened. The demon hummed in amusement at his struggles, happy to let him feel it as every attempt to take back control over his limbs failed.

_Just sleep a little,_ it cooed directly into his mind. _Aren't you tired? Such a valiant Templar. I'll give you dreams of blue. Aren't you tired of so much red, every time I close our eyes? You've done so so well, little Templar. Just sleep a bit and let me do the rest._

Cullen ignored it. At first he'd screamed and railed at it, his control fraying worse than it had at Kinloch.

But it had been months and his mind was still intact. The demon had eaten red lyrium with a smile and laughed as he screamed at it. It had carefully maintained Cullen's body and used it to kill. It had carefully maintained Cullen's mind so that he would stay _aware_ of every second.

If he accepted anything it offered, it won.

He wouldn't let it win.

The demon pressed a knife to the flesh of his thumb and let a drop of blood fall onto a rune on the altar, humming slightly to itself. Cullen forced himself to feel every bit of it, wishing that he could feel as sick as he wanted to be just so the demon would have to feel the nausea. He forced himself to feel the pain of the knife, the slight roughness of his throat as the demon hummed along with the thrum of red lyrium in Cullen’s body. He forced himself to feel the odd tingling in his hands as the demon did some sort of demonic magic to the rune, making it and the blood spin up in a swirl. He tried to call up his own powers to stop it, even for a moment. He failed. It giggled at him in the privacy of whatever space there was between their minds.

"It is done," the demon purred aloud. Cullen was almost used to how wrong his voice sounded when it spoke. "Remember what you promised, when we return."

Alexius stepped forwards, dragging his mutated son along with him. There was a crazed smile on his face and the amulet that had killed the Herald in his free hand.

Cullen had seen it so often at this point that he couldn’t even hate it with the intensity it deserved.

_He's not going to get what he wants,_ the demon confided quietly. _But we will. Be happy, my precious little Templar. You're going to get to do it all again. Do try not to mess up this time._

Cullen ignored it, then mentally railed as it hummed in amusement and averted his eyes away from whatever Alexius was doing at the altar, for no reason other than not letting Cullen see something he was paying attention to.

And all at once everything stopped.

* * *

Cullen lurched awake, overcome by a wave of nausea. He pressed his head to his knees, hands gripping at his hair as he closed his eyes to a darkness that would have been comforting if he wasn't panicking.

The demon. The ritual. Alexius. Corypheus. The entire world a nightmare.

And at the same time the rational part of his mind caught up. That was ridiculous. He was in Haven. There were no time traveling Magisters. No magical breaches in the sky. The Divine was perfectly safe, the Orlesian Grey Wardens had even sent several of their number to serve as a neutral guard, there was nothing that could possibly get to her.

Short of an explosion. Which is what had happened.

Would happen?

And the Grey Wardens... he'd seen them. They were compromised. Their mages were red eyed and blank faced and loyal to Corypheus. The rest of them were dead.

No. It was a dream. Or this was a dream, a result of whatever spell the demon and Alexius had cast. It was--

Cullen took a steadying breath, loosening his fingers from his hair. It was lyrium paranoia.

He'd been through this before, and knew it was a possibility before he'd even tried to stop taking the lyrium. Paranoia, delusions, and inability to distinguish between nightmares and reality were all a possibility.

It made sense.

Every single thing from the dream was a direct exaggeration of something he was terrified of, or some terrible thing he'd experienced in the past. Even the Wardens-- Some twisted part of him must still _want_ a reason not to trust them. To make it so _they_ were the ones in the wrong and not--

He wouldn't let it control him. He'd promised himself. If it got worse he'd...

Well.

Cullen spared a glance towards the place he'd hidden his kit.

If he was succumbing to paranoia then he had to take it again. It wasn't worth ruining _everything_ by going into a paranoia induced rage. If it was this bad he could completely disrupt the Conclave. He could spark off a greater conflict that would impact the rest of the world. His personal wants and desires were _nothing_ compared to that.

Every bit of him wanted to go dig out that kit and let the lyrium flood through him. For a moment all he could feel was red and there was a very familiar song in his ears.

He rushed to his feet, nearly tripping on his blankets. He shoved his way out of the tent and stumbled out into the snow.

It was still dark, the ground lit by starlight and distant torches among the row of tents. It was... settling. Peaceful. The shock of cold cleared his mind with a hurry. It was easy to slip into breathing exercises, to pull at his powers and feel the pure light of it within him. He absolutely wasn't possessed, he was certain of that. The dream had just been playing on old fears.

It was the worst day for it. Today was the first big day of the Conclave. There was going to be so much arguing and he needed to be at his best and most alert, not struggling from lyrium hunger induced delusions.

It was the day everything was going to unravel. Except it wasn't, because that was a dream.

Cullen took a breath, wishing he had something to lean into and steadying his stance instead. It was tempting to look at the sky where-- Nothing was going to be there. The Breach was just a nasty way for his mind to remind him of what had happened in Kirkwall. So was the red lyrium. An evil Magister serving an even eviler ancient being who was mind controlling everyone else was just an easy way for him to hate and fear mages without any sort of complicated morals getting into it. He could--

If he let himself fall into the delusion it would be incredibly easy to convince himself he was freeing mages from Corypheus by killing them.

Cullen shuddered at the thought, wrapping his arms around himself. He'd been there before, during the Blight. It hadn't been pleasant. Not even the aftermath, when he had to come to terms with who he was and what he thought and how much was deserved or wasn't.

Every encounter with a demon after that had set his mind to racing, no matter how much he trained and tried to steady himself. And in the future he would--

In the _dream_. A nightmare induced by lack of lyrium.

The Herald didn't even _exist_ , he was just some made up innocent bystander that Cullen's mind had come up with. Even the fact that he was Dalish just meant that Cullen’s mind had provided someone removed from the entire conflict, since his entire experience with Dalish was that one clan that had peacefully lingered near Kirkwall without making trouble and the friendly Dalish woman who had followed Hawke around. The excuse the dream had made for Mahanon to be there was ridiculous. Why would the Dalish care how the Conclave went? And if they did, they certainly wouldn't send one single hunter who couldn't lie his way past a nug to wander around secretly in the hopes of overhearing something useful. It was--

It was an easy way to bring himself back to reality.

Cullen's eyes flicked to the sky, to a place that had never been of interest before and at the same time had been _every_ interest before.

It was hours before the breach was going to explode into being.

If he left now, long before he was supposed to be even awake, then he could get there when Mahanon had said he was wandering around the back halls. He more or less remembered the path. If Cullen went _there_ and waited until after the Breach was supposed to open and there was nothing...

Then he'd do his duties for the day, and when he set in for the night he'd take his lyrium again.

Cullen steeled himself, then went back into his tent to get dressed, trying not to hope that Mahanon would be in the Temple. He wouldn't. Of course he wouldn't. He didn't exist.

* * *

Cullen stopped at a junction, struggling to remember the exact directions to the room the Herald had said he was running towards. They'd worked it out over one long meeting, trying to figure out the exact spot that Mahanon had been when everything had gone wrong as though it would tell them something.

Not being able to remember was almost comforting. If he ran into a dead end or something else to indicate that the directions were entirely made up then it would be even more so. Still, he tried to remember. Tried to put as much effort as he could into proving this delusion absolutely false. It was... Left?

Except as he turned that direction he could hear someone quietly coming down the hall. And then the worst person possible came around the corner, looking absentmindedly at the wall carvings before catching sight of Cullen and stopping with a wide eyed gasp.

Right. Mahanon wasn't supposed to be here. He was 'spying'.

It was real.

They needed to find out what happened _now_. There was still time. They could stop it.

He took a step forward, determination written over his face.

Mahanon took a step back, bringing his hands up and looking a little panicked. "Uh, hi? I'm-- um... Lost. I'm absolutely lost. If you could show me the way out I'll just be on my way--"

"There's no time for this." Cullen cut in, frustrated and wishing there was some way to quickly get across what they needed to do. This was insane but if Mahanon was here then it was _real_.

"No time for--" Mahanon stopped suddenly, head going up and eyes going wide. "Did you hear that?"

"What?"

"I'm not--" Mahanon shifted in agitation. "It sounded like yelling."

"Where?"

"I'm not lying," the Herald said cautiously, much to Cullen's frustration. Why would anyone even lie about something like that? Unless he thought that Cullen thought that-- This was making Cullen's head hurt and wasting time.

"I know," Cullen answered. It took actual force of will to prevent himself from calling Mahanon by his title. Normally it was an easy way to show respect, to make sure the Herald knew that Cullen was being sincere, but Mahanon had no idea who he was. He had no idea what was about to happen.

Coming here was a mistake. He wasn't going to preempt disaster, he was going to stall the Herald so badly that when Andraste wrapped him in her embrace he wouldn't even have the scant clues he'd come to them with the first time around. He wished he'd gone to Leliana first. She believed in all sorts of strange things. She would believe this. But no, he'd been so convinced it was the lyrium hunger.

Mahanon tilted his head, eyes going distant then refocusing. "It was from that way!"

Cullen didn't wait this time, instead he took off in the direction the Herald had indicated. He could hear Mahanon running after him, even over the clatter of his own armor.

The next time a yell for help came, Cullen could hear it.

His heart sank and he pushed himself faster. He knew that voice. The Divine.

The Herald had been so close to saving her last time. But he hadn't made it. The moment he'd reached the doors the Temple had exploded and Andraste... Andraste had saved him. Not the Divine, but _the Herald_.

It had to mean something.

Cullen pushed himself as fast as he could. If he could get those doors open in time-- if the Herald could _see_ what was in that room-- it might be enough. Just a little bit of information they hadn't had before.

He wished he'd blurted it all out the moment he saw Mahanon but it was impossible now. He'd just have to hope that there was something past those doors that would change the path of fate this time around.

Cullen felt a wave of triumph as he slammed into the door, shoving it open so quickly that he stumbled.

The Divine was-- The Wardens were-- And that was absolutely Corypheus. Cullen hadn't ever seen him up close before but--

If Mahanon existing hadn't been proof, this certainly was.

The Divine, bless her, used the distraction to knock the device out of the monster's hand, sending it careening towards Cullen. He grabbed at it, hoping beyond hope that they'd somehow managed to interrupt whatever ritual had--

His entire world exploded in green.

* * *

Cullen came to slowly, groggily. He could hear people talking... and then other people talking... He tried to open his eyes, and by the time he managed it there was an entirely _different_ set of people talking and Cassandra was leaning over him with wide eyes.

"Cullen! You're awake!"

"Mrmgh," he grumbled out in answer, feeling like he'd taken a blow to the head.

And then it all came rushing back. He'd gone up to the Temple early because-- Because... He couldn't remember. But he'd gone up early and found the-- The? He'd found a very familiar elf that he'd never seen before. And then there'd been yelling and running and... nothing? "What happened?"

"Leliana thinks it was Andraste delivering you to us. The elf you were dragging along thinks it was a spirit." Her eyes sharpened. "Did he do it? Is that why you had hold of him?"

"Mahanon?" he asked. And then stopped in confusion. Because he didn't know the elf he'd encountered in the hallway. And yet the name came so easily.

Except he had been certain, in that moment, that he did know him.

The mismatch of realities was making him dizzy, making him worry that he'd finally started losing memories to the lyrium. It could have been worse, he'd rather lose memories than gain delusions.

Cullen shoved himself into a sitting position, making the Sisters beyond Cassandra flutter around in worry. "I need to talk to him."

"You..." Cassandra paused, worried. "You shouldn't rush. The mage who healed you said... There's a lot to discuss..." Cassandra seemed at a loss for where to begin. "It's probably best if I showed you."

"First I want to talk to that elf-- Mahanon?" Cullen answered, somehow feeling as though that was more important.

He shouldn't have. Surely whatever was going on was more important than a single uninvolved elf. Rifts..? It all felt so familiar.

Cassandra filled him in as much as she was able on the way down to the dungeon. An explosion. The Breach. Rifts everywhere. Demons raining down from the sky.

None of it was nearly as surprising as it should have been and somewhere deep in his gut Cullen felt a certainty that when he found out _why_ he wasn't going to like the answer.

An elf that he'd never seen before that hallway-- who was also somehow as familiar as Cassandra-- jumped to his feet in his cell as they came closer.

"Please tell me you remember what happened," he said, waving his hands around in agitation, "I don't remember anything but someone yelling and then you bodyslamming a door all panicked trying to open it but they won't _believe_ me."

"I..." Cullen stopped, frowning. "That's about as much as I can remember."

"So we don't know for sure if he was involved." Cassandra made an annoyed noise, glaring at the elf.

"I _wasn't_!"

"He wasn't," Cullen agreed. "I found him wandering the hallways, and then he heard--" Cullen suddenly stopped as he remembered _who_ and forced himself to continue. "He heard the Divine yelling, further than I could hear."

"If you couldn't hear it then perhaps he was lying about who he heard..." Cassandra's face was full of complicated emotion.

Cullen knew with a sudden certainty that the Divine was dead. Cassandra hadn't mentioned it yet, of course she hadn't, but he knew.

"He didn't say who it was and there wasn't time for me to ask. I... I felt certain he was telling the truth and took off running as soon as he said it. It was only when I heard her yelling that I recognized the Divine." It was almost confusing because... why? Why would he trust a random Dalish elf who was wandering around somewhere that he had no right to be?

And yet he absolutely did.

"He followed me there." Cullen added, "So if nothing else, I'm certain he had nothing to do with it. He could have easily escaped me then. Or simply not said anything about the sound of yelling and stalled me for longer."

Cassandra didn't look convinced, but waved the guards to unlock the cell anyways.

The elf slipped out as soon as the door was open, clearly glad to be free of his cage. Then he gave Cullen a narrow eyed look. "Do I know you from somewhere? Because you seem to know me. You seemed to know me the moment you saw me."

Cullen paused, feeling pinned under Mahanon's confusion and Cassandra's wary curiosity.

He didn't.

And he did. Somehow. Impossibly.

Maybe it had to do with whatever had sent the two of them somehow stumbling out of a rift. Cassandra had said he’d been holding on to Mahanon's wrist. That had to mean something.

He settled for a shrug. "I can't remember. I suppose it's possible we crossed paths before."

The elf sighed. "Great. Okay. Let's just... go with that. I've had more than enough weirdness. Can I go?"

"No," Cassandra said, even faster than Cullen could. "We still don't know how you fit into this."

"I was hanging out in unused hallways hoping to get an idea of if you lot were going to get all stabs and fireballs at each other without actually interacting with you!" Mahanon burst out, frustration written over his face. "That's it!"

"Something strange is going on. We aren't blaming you, we just need to know how you fit in." Cullen answered, trying to be appeasing even though his thoughts were whirling.

Everything Mahanon said felt so firmly like the truth that he couldn't help but wonder if there was some sort of magical manipulation going on. And at the same time he was _sure_ that there wasn't.

They'd figure it out.

They'd have to.

There was something just beyond his knowledge, like a distant figure in fog, that made him certain _everything_ would depend on it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Gammarad for betaing this <3


End file.
